01x05 - Stitcher in the Rye

[bunniefuu]

Previously on "Stitchers"...

Hey, Fisher. Welcome to the Stitchers Program.

Kirsten, I have to tell you something. It's about Ed Clarke.

L.A.P.D. is officially ruling his death as a su1c1de.

I'm looking forward to the day I prove you wrong.

Kirsten: Ed ripped someone out of this picture.

Any ideas who it was?

Maggie: No, but I assume it's someone he didn't think very highly of.

Does anyone outside of the program know the nature of your work here?

Not that I'm aware of.

But what about inside the program?

If you ever feel uncomfortable or experience any side effects, promise you'll tell me, okay?

Cameron: Peter brant. This gent's our bomber.

Lisa Keller d*ed last night at a rave in Hollywood from a drug overdose.

Maggie: Lilly Ross. Lilly and her husband Scott were on their honeymoon.

He found her body in the alley.

Stitching affects you. It makes you different for a little bit.

Sometimes people get hurt.

(Pop music playing)

♪ I used to listen to the swan song over and over ♪
♪ and it made me so hungover ♪
♪ maybe now I don't like to write so much 'cause ♪
♪ it requires liking things too much and ♪
♪ I haven't liked anything in a long time... ♪

You forgot the cheese.

Well, good morning, Camille. How'd you sleep?

Fine. Thanks for asking. You?

Who sent you "Catcher in the Rye"?

I don't know. I found it out front when I came back from my run.

Who said you could open my stuff?

Force of habit.

At least now I don't have to reseal it and pretend it never happened.

You know what? Speaking of personal boundaries, you wore my YFB shirt, didn't you?

Me? No. Why?

Because it smells like curry and you love curry, and I hate curry.

Hey, can I borrow your shirt for a date I have last night?

You can't ask today for something you borrowed yesterday.

But with you everything feels like it already happened.

And?

So let's move my asking to borrow your shirt to yesterday, where it belongs.

Yes, you can borrow my shirt.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Well, this is good. This is progress.

You and me, roomies.

We're sharing each other's stuff, and you know what?

I haven't read "Catcher in the Rye" in awhile.

And it is kind of awesome, so can I borrow it?

No.

Okay. Baby steps it is.

Do we have any cheese?

Justin Link, 30, d*ed of a massive heart att*ck after the breakfast rush at his food truck.

Oh, I love that truck.

Why?

All it has is ridiculously expensive toast.

It's artisanal toast.

Both: And now he's toast.

If he wasn't m*rder*d, why are we stitching into him?

Because when he wasn't serving up toast and coffee, Justin was quite the busy conspiracy blogger.

Bigfoot and aliens kind of stuff, or...

More like 9/11 was a false flag operation.

He was a nutbag.

Actually, Justin was ex-CIA.

Went off the reservation a few years ago.

As you can see from his blog, Justin lost himself in conspiracies about government secrecy, spying, and cover-ups.

He's here, and we are stitching into him, Linus, because his posts consistently came a bit too close to the truth, because nobody's been able to determine his sources, and because he ruffled the feathers of an alphabet soup of government agencies.

Justin claimed to have thousands of classified documents locked up tight.

Let me guess. Somewhere nobody could locate them.

Well, he was trained to operate off the grid.

The day before yesterday Justin wrote that he received classified documentation at 6:57 A.M. about another government program and conspiracy the public needs to know about.

Here he promised to post it tonight.

And as luck would have it drops dead of natural causes before he can go public with it.

As far as we know, it was just a heart att*ck.

The silver lining, however, is we now have the opportunity to find out how and from whom he's been getting his classified information.

Ready?

Stations, please.

Sample is online.

Stitch journal sync in three.

Remember, Kirsten, we're looking for Justin's stash of alleged government goodies and sources.

Two! Justin's mind is a quagmire of weirdly interconnected links, so brace yourself. One!

Bones, buckle up. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

And mark.

Whoa. Cameron, what's happening?

Woman: Government conspiracy.

Man: Uncovering the truth.

Man 2: Technology, spying covertly...

Woman: The world order.

Okay, this is weird.

(Overlapping voices)

And that's what I'm saying.

Carbs, good.

Food pyramid promulgated by Uncle Sam, bad.

What do you see, little darling?

I'm at his truck and in his blog at the same time.

Do something.

I mean, it's obviously a government-sponsored soft-k*ll eugenics program designed to depopulate the Earth.

Who's got the maple butter?

So Justin's a little multiphasic little bugger.

Linus, filters, please.

Mm-hmm.

You don't even want to know what the Department of Defense is loading into chemtrails.

Running the filter in three, two, one.

Agribusiness is k*lling off honey bees so they can corner the food supply with GMOs.

Better?

Yeah.

A little.

No. No, wait.

Uh, I'm not sure.

Her limbic system is teetering.

Paranoid reaction is elevated.

Oh, crap.

Oh, that's good. Thank you.

Ayo: She's getting into trouble.

Deets, please.

I can't.

Too many. It's coming too fast.

Her brain is spinning into insanity and beyond.

Just take a deep breath, Kirsten.

Just focus on what's real.

I'm in the brain of a dead man.

I work in a secret lab underneath a mediocre Chinese restaurant.

You tell me what's real and I'll happily focus on that.

Cameron: Insane times call for insane measures.

Okay. Kirsten?

You need to find his home base.

Click your heels and say "there's no place like home" three times.

You can't be serious.

You need an anchor. The Oz reference might ground you.

There's no place like home. There's no place like home.

There's no place like home.

Where you at now, Stretch?

In his home.

But home is inside the truck.

He cooked where he slept?

I'm so glad I didn't know that when I ate there.

We're wasting time.

She needs to find where he kept his secrets.

Did he have a secure storage area of some sort maybe?

Like a safe, perhaps?

No, not that I can... hold on.

I think he's up to something.

You're not going to freaking believe this.

(Theme music playing)

♪ Take me inside ♪

♪ take me inside ♪

What exactly are we looking for here?

You'll see.

Yeah, you might not want to... oh.

By the power of grey skull.

I think I went to kindergarten with those computers.

Yeah, they're pre-wireless, pre-Internet, totally unhackable.

He's got subcategories in his sub-subcategories, ciphers in his ciphers.

Justin wasn't taking any chances, he's date and time-stamped everything, too.

I think I found what Justin was going to post tonight.

Uh-oh.

What uh-oh?

Go, go, go!

Go, go.

(Car alarm blaring)

Well, that's great.

I think I read about these once.

What kind of dark magic is this?

Linus, do we even have anything around here that can play this?

Um, let me jump in my DeLorean, I'll go back to the future and see if I can grab it.

We've got to tell Maggie. She's not going to be happy.

We could say something like,

"Maggie, you look lovely today.

"But this ancient disk of Justin's can't be read by any of our fancy government technology!"

So what did you get off the disk?

Nothing. That ancient disk can't be read by anything in our lab.

Did I mention you're looking lovely today?

Justin's brain had a very short lifespan.

There's not going to be another stitch.

So, Dr. Goodkin, when choosing between solutions, and kissing my ass, I vote for solutions.

I suppose we could find an old drive and an interface board, and we might be able to cobble up a transfer protocol of some kind.

Yeah, I'll check the net for parts.

I'll start working on a wiring diagram.

Have it done by noon tomorrow.

Dr. Goodkin?

Yeah, it's something Maggie calls me when she's annoyed.

She must call you that a lot.

What's going on?

You said to tell you if something was weird in the stitch.

What happened? You feeling okay? What is it?

Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. It's just I'm seeing stuff that doesn't make sense.

That's the nature of what we do.

We make sense of these...

I don't mean that.

I mean I'm seeing things that seem out of place in a particular person's memory.

And now I'm seeing that same oddball thing in more than one person.

I'm not following.

Peter Brant, remember him?

Revenge bomber.

I saw a Teddy Bear in his memories.

Well, maybe it was his from when he was a kid.

Maybe.

But then why did I see that exact same bear in Justin's memory?

How can that happen?

It can't.

So it's likely it's a memory that belongs to neither of them.

So it's mine?

It's possible.

I don't remember ever having a Teddy Bear like that.

I don't remember anything before my father ditched me with Ed Clark.

Why would I start remembering that stuff now?

Could have something to do with hooking your brain up to a quantum computer and running enough power through it to light a very small city.

I found an old picture that Ed left for me, of him and my mother.

He wrote the word "remember" on the back.

Remember what?

Thanks, Doc.

Huh. Case missing.

(Cellphone chimes)

Time's up.

Do you remember what I said?

I thought you said I had five more minutes.

Yes, and those five minutes are up.

I have work to do. It's my turn to use the computer.

You've got more computers in the garage.

Those are too old and slow.

It has been five minutes, Kirsten.

I don't know what five minutes feels like.

Five minutes feels like... that.

(Knocking on door)

I'm coming!

Hold your water. God.

What does this look like to you?

The algorithm for stitching.

Thank you for waking me up in the middle of the night to show this to me.

Now, bye-bye.

Ask me why I would risk my high-level clearance to all things stitchers by removing this from the lab.

Because rules mean nothing to you.

That would be true if I had actually taken it off premises, but I didn't.

I got it off this.

Justin had that on that?

You know what this means?

Someone from inside the stitchers program gave it to him.

There's that.

And I can't rule out the possibility it was you.

Why would I leak the most crucial information about my own lab?

Eliminate the impossible and whatever's left, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

You leaking the algorithm for some unknown reason is not impossible.

Um, how do I know it wasn't you?

Why would I wake you up to divulge the leak if I was the one doing the leaking?

To, uh, double fake me out?

Give me your phone.

Why?

To prove you didn't do it.

You can't prove a negative.

You can't not prove that I can't.

Phone.

What happened to trust?

Trust? Here's trust.

When we first met you pretended to be an a**l jerk only to cover that you were a slightly less a**l jerk.

You do things you don't want to talk about and you don't share anything with me other than recipes.

I told you what really happened to Marta, didn't I?

Nothing I couldn't have figured out on my own.

Yes or no? Did you leak the algorithm to Justin?

No!

There's only a handful of people who have high-level clearance to access those codes.

You're one of them.

Yeah, and so is Maggie, Linus, and Camille.

So weird.

I keep getting these spam messages.

You know what this is?

This is residual emotion from the stitch.

You're experiencing Justin's general distrust of everything.

Give me your phone, Dr. Smartypants.

Dr. Smartypants. That's the best you can do?

I don't mock the stupid names you call me.

They're terms of endearment, Dopey.

And B.T.W., that wasn't one of them.

That was an insult because you are being...

Dopey. I get it.

Ouch. Phone.

What are you doing?

Checking tracking location to see where you were at 6:57 A.M. two days ago when the stitchers information was handed off to Justin.

I disabled the app.

Not well enough.

You were home. You didn't do it.

Hmm. You seem disappointed.

Your turn. Let me see your phone.

I disabled tracking and the encrypted uplink, like you could have if you'd known how.

Well, don't feel bad. Not many people do.

Guess I'll have to trust you.

Just like that?

And I'm the dopey one?

What are you doing?

Hacking into Linus' lonely world to see if he's the leak.

You can't seriously think that...

Lke you said, he's one of the few people who have access to the full algorithm.

Yeah, but I only said that...

Just to cover yourself?

Yes, but...

He's got his system on lockdown.

You're invading his privacy. You know that, right?

We're stitchers. We inv*de privacy for a living.

Yes, but this is Linus.

Look, I only need to see where he was when Justin claims to have received the stitching codes.

Why don't you just call his mother to check his alibi?

Good idea.

Now, now. Come on, Kirsten.

And look at it this way.

How would you feel if one of us hacked into your stuff, huh?

My stuff is totally unhackable, so...

I'd be impressed.

My mother won't run my life... one word.

Capital on the "f".

Linus' password.

He told it to me when he had too many Tequila sh*ts.

Okay, and for the record, someday you are going to have to learn how to trust the people in your life.

I'm in. He has two smart phones and five computers linked to his home network system.

Keystroke biometrics are a match on all of them so we know only he uses them.

And... wow.

What?

For the last week Linus has been pulling all-nighters playing Minecraft, Knights of the Old Republic, Tron Legacy, and three online chessgames simultaneously.

We must find this man a girlfriend.

He was playing online when Justin was given the algorithm.

Oops.

What "oops"?

He just locked me out. He knows we hacked into his...

(ringing)

Why were you hacking into my computer?

To clear you of treason, Linus.

Uh, yeah, which... that was all Kirsten.

I knew you weren't guilty. You're welcome.

How did she figure out my password?

Uh, remember the other night after work?

Damn you, Tequila.

Someone leaked the algorithm for the stitch lab to Justin.

Our stitch lab?

No, the other stitch lab. Yes, our stitch lab!

And thanks to your gaming addiction we know it wasn't you, and it wasn't me our Kirsten either, so...

Well, the only other people who have access to the codes, are Maggie and Camille.

And it couldn't have been Camille.

Why not?

Because it, uh, it couldn't.

Yeah, that's not going to fly with Sherlock here.

She needs cold hard proof that Camille isn't a baddie.

So unless you were with her at the time...

I wasn't with Camille that morning.

Why would you say that? I mean, I wasn't with Camille that morning, or any morning before work in the morning.

Linus, I need you to get Camille and... that's my sweatshirt.

That's my sweatshirt.

Camille? Camille?

Hey, Kirsten, can I borrow your sweatshirt for a booty call with Linus last night?

You hooked up with Linus?

You hooked up with Camille?

Yeah. Go me!

Look, to answer your question, Camille was staying at the hotel Linus while the algorithm was leaked to Justin.

That leaves Maggie. She's going to be at the stitch lab soon.

Meet us there.

Get dressed.

Linus. Camille.

You know what? Wear what you're wearing. Let's go.

Oh! Mind blown.

Put these on. Cameron.

Yeah, no, I'm sorry. I just... I just need a minute to digest what we just interrupted.

Why? They only slept together.

Yeah, but they work together, too.

So what?

So, awkward!

I mean, what if they break up?

They have to see each other every day at the office.

They're adults. They can handle it.

At least, Camille is... sometimes.

Anyway...

So...

You're okay with co-workers dating?

Yeah. I'm not okay with Linus wearing my sweatshirt.

Now please, get dressed.

Ugh. Thank goodness you're all here.

I have something I need to tell you.

(g*nshots)

Call 911.

Hey.

I'm fine.

Hold up! Wait!

Call them.

If you call 911, if you call anyone, I will k*ll you.

Hold up! Wait.

Explain to me what we're going to do with the armed assailant after we catch him.

How is she?

She's fine, thank you.

The b*llet grazed her arm.

I gave her a tetanus sh*t. She'll be fine.

That was incredibly reckless of both of you.

Will you give us a moment?

Keep pressure on that.

Yes, mother.

That was on Justin's disk.

I'm not sure I like your tone.

The "you're the only person left who could have leaked the code" tone?

Yeah, that one.

So, did you leak the code?

Linus, remember when we met?

You were just 19, answered that ad in your school paper.

The agency posed a math problem and whoever could solve it earned the right to apply to an elite government position. Remember that?

Yes.

And Cameron.

Poor little rich boy choking on that silver spoon mommy and daddy left in your mouth until I came along and gave meaning to that fabulous education they paid for.

Where are you going with this?

Camille, you were a lackluster PhD. Student who got a chance to run with the big dogs.

But without me, you'd likely have had to leave the program and take a teaching job with some underfunded public school.

You're nasty when you get sh*t. You know that?

My point is that I didn't raise the three of them from the depths of obscurity only to risk your lives, and my life, for that matter, by compromising the program that I have spent the better part of two decades building.

Plus, you will forgive me if I don't put too delicate of a spin on this point, but I am bleeding all over this desk.

I didn't give the algorithm to anybody outside of this office because at the time, I was having breakfast with Leslie Turner.

He is the director of the agency.

Now go. Work the problem. Figure out who leaked that document, and if you can, it would be nice if you found the son of a bitch who sh*t me, too.

Hey, so I think it's best if we're just friends.

With benefits?

That's not enough for you, Linus.

You know that.

No one inside the lab...

Are we interrupting?

What? Interrupting what?

No, no, no.

Good.

No one from inside the lab leaked the algorithm.

We've checked and rechecked everyone who works here even people without high-level clearance.

Ayo's apartment was tented for termites.

She was at a friend's house that morning.

And Bob the test tube guy? He was working out with his trainer.

Dude, I don't get it.

The algorithm only exists in hard copy, only in here.

It didn't just walk out by itself.

Maybe one of the Bumblebee drones got in and snapped a few pictures.

Okay, let's take Justin's tinfoil hat off, Sparky, and come at this from an angle that's a tad more logical, yeah?

There's not a lot to go on.

Remember, in the stitch you said that that the images were coming at you too fast.

What if you did your brain-timey thingy and slowed them down?

Maybe there's something in there that you missed.

Guy in a suit. Nothing special.

Envelope. Butterfly tattoo on someone's wrist.

Broken watch.

Homeless guy in a wheelchair.

That's all there is.

I know who did it.

I've seen this. If you could tell us why we're watching it.

Freeze it.

Zoom in on Marta's wrist.

Magnifying 125.

150. 250. Just tell me when.

300.

Stop.

That exact tattoo was on a woman's wrist in the stitch.

Guys, I just got off the phone with the hospital.

Marta Rodriguez woke up and checked herself out almost a week ago.

(Softly) Damn it.

So it was Marta I saw give Justin the envelope.

You're positive it was that tattoo?

I am.

It has to be Marta. She's the only person beside us that has access.

Then find her... from inside the lab, people.

If she took a sh*t at me, who's to say she won't go after one of you?

Marta's doctors said they tried to follow up with her after she was discharged.

They never heard back.

Her landlord and neighbors haven't seen her either.

How well did you know Marta?

You mean were we going out?

You two seemed close.

We were and we weren't.

We were getting there.

But then the accident happened.

I'm sorry.

I visited her at the hospital nearly every week.

I brought her flowers.

Sometimes I talked to her. I thought that might wake her up.

Maybe if I was there when she did...

You couldn't have stopped her.

You don't know that.

I'm beginning to understand what stitching does to a person.

I don't know how she could've been unaffected afterwards even without the accident.

She's just not like me.

No one's like you, Stretch.

So why'd you recruit her? She doesn't have temporal dysplasia.

N.S.A. profile showed she was good in every area and off the charts in one... protective instinct.

So when she volunteered to be our test pilot, we thought she'd be the right fit.

What was Marta's specialty at the N.S.A.?

Cryptography.

C-I-T-R 94.

Okay.

"A" is "y."

"K" is "d."

"M" is "g."

Marta.

It's all good. You're going to be safe now.

Have you guys seen Kirsten?

No.

Why are we here?

(Music plays loudly)

Marta, what are you doing?

What are you...

Shh!

Nobody's listening. Come on.

Watch. I coded an app.

It sweeps for radio frequency pulses.

I check the house every day.

Clear. It's clear. The place is clean.

Let me see it. The phone, let me see it.

I knew we were the same.

Get packed.

Why?

I know a place. I'll take you there. You'll be safe.

Safe from what?

Them.

(Cellphone rings)

It's Kirsten.

Where are you?

Who's them, Marta?

Stitchers. They're evil.

They have to be stopped.

Kirsten: So you leaked the algorithm to Justin to stop stitchers.

Marta: Exactly.

And when that didn't work, I tried to k*ll Maggie.

Marta: How is that lying bitch?

Kirsten: Bad. I don't think she's going to make it.

Good.

Otherwise I'd circle back around and finish the job.

You need to get packed. Now.

My bedroom's in the back.

Call Fisher.

The Stitchers Program destroys people.

It almost k*lled me.

I heard you stayed in too long.

Didn't bounce in time?

Right. It's my fault.

Cameron tell you that?

Typical. He couldn't possibly have made a mistake.

How do you know what you're feeling isn't...

Residual emotion?

No.

What I'm feeling, what I know, is real.

I know they'll use you like they used me until something goes wrong. And it will.

And when that happens, they'll try to make you disappear.

The Stitchers Program was created to help people.

By sending us places, secret places nobody should ever go.

That's not how they see it.

They turned us into grave-robbers.

A newlywed k*lled on her honeymoon.

An 18-year-old girl m*rder*d trying to save a friend.

Some of those graves shouldn't have been filled in the first place.

Oh, you still think you're solving murders.

They don't care who k*lled those people.

They're sticking you in as test runs for something bigger.

Test runs?

For what?

I don't know.

But if we don't leave now, we're both dead.

Look who's here.

Our knight in shining armor.

It's over, Marta. We know what you did.

He promise to take care of you?

Like you took care of me?

Marta.

Okay, Marta. Put the g*n down.

Did Cameron tell you to trust him...

Like he told me?

You're right. I asked you to trust me and you shouldn't have.

I let you down.

(Sirens approaching)

You hear those sirens?

They're coming for you. Get out now while you can.

I have to protect you.

I have to save you.

You and I, we're the only two people in the world who know!

Police officer: Marta Rodriguez!

(Cellphone ringing)

This is the police!

(Cellphone ringing)

Come out with your hands up.

How did you get this number?

Marta Rodriguez, the place is surrounded.

Come out with your hands up.

I understand.

(Helicopters overhead)

Who was that?

Easy.

Marta Rodriguez!

The place is surrounded!

Come out with your hands up!

You're going to be safe now.

Marta.

Marta, don't go out there with that g*n.

Marta, give me the g*n.

Marta Rodriguez!

Come out with your hands in the air!

Thank you...

For the flowers.

Step out of the house.

This is your final warning.

Marta, wait!

Don't!

Officer: Put the g*n down and get down on the ground!

Put the g*n down and down on the ground!

Do you hear me? You got to drop that g*n!

Put it down!

(g*nshots)

It's not your fault.

Yes, it is.

We have been over this.

You weren't working the controls that day.

Marta stayed in the stitch too long.

You weren't inside her head.

You begged her to bounce, she wouldn't.

She couldn't.

Because she violated protocol.

You want to have a pity party, fine. Have at it.

But it ends before you walk back in the lab.

If I walk back in.

You will, because no one understands this technology the way you do.

And no one else can keep Kirsten as safe.

We're just about done here.

Sorry it turned out like this.

So are we.

Arrange to divert Marta back to the stitch lab.

Start the protocol.

Cameron.

Don't.

Just don't.

You called Marta, didn't you?

Called her?

Before she went outside.

You said something to her that made her do this.

It wasn't me.

Because you were having breakfast with Les Turner again?

Because it wasn't me.

How do I know you're telling the truth?

Kirsten, we're not stitching into Marta.

We need to know what she knows, who else she told about the program.

It's too risky.

Because someone else might try to k*ll you or because you don't want us to see what she really knew about stitchers?

You want to drag Marta's body into the lab, slide her into the corpse cassette a few feet away from Cameron?

Probe her deepest memories that may include him?

He wants to do it.

He only thinks that he does.

Cameron's a big boy. He'll be fine.

No, he won't.

You saw what thinking he caused Marta's coma did to him.

Imagine how he'll react to helping plunder her brain.

Cameron is not like you, Kirsten. Trust me.

Trust you.

Or not.

I'm going to leave that one to you.

Did Maggie tell you?

No-go on stitching Marta?

You okay?

Why do people do that?

Do what?

Ask if you're okay when they know you're not okay.

You ever notice that? People ask if you're okay more often when you're not okay than when you are okay.

Okay. So you're not okay.

Actually...

I think I am. For now.

Maybe in a week or a month, a couple years from now, who knows?

I'll be in my car and something will remind me of Marta.

And then it will hit me and then for those moments I won't be okay.

But... that's fine.

Because if I didn't feel the loss, it would mean I didn't care.

I didn't... I didn't mean that...

I'm not saying that you don't care.

I know you do, but...

Do I wish that I could process this all in an instant and put it behind me?

Do I wish I was more like you?

Yes.

And no.

Man: The program dodged a b*llet this time.

Your phone call to Marta was well calculated.

I appealed to her protective nature.

I pointed out that if the police brought her in, if the curtain were pulled back from the Stitchers Program...

The agency would have to deal with all of us in an undesirable way.

Marta was a good soldier.

She knew what she had to do to protect Kirsten and...

She did it.

Les, I lied to my team for you.

I told them that Justin d*ed of a heart att*ck.

You did your job, Maggie.

You k*lled a man so that you could stitch into him.

We had solid intel Justin had our algorithms.

We needed to know if it was true.

And if it was true, who gave it to him.

So you didn't know it was Marta?

If I had known, this all would have played out very differently.

Still, there had to be another way.

There wasn't.

I mean, for God's sake, what was I supposed to do?

Interrogate him?

Justin was former C.I.A. You know how you guys are.

Conditioned not to cr*ck.

He had our algorithms.

He was going to post them for the world to see.

And if he did? That's it.

All over.

The lab, the Stitchers Program.

All of us gone for good.

And our technology in the wrong hands.

I wasn't going to let that happen.

That's all.

Kirsten Clark is a smart girl.

What do I tell her when she asks what our $8 billion program is really designed to do?

Tell her whatever you want.

As long as it's not the truth.

(Theme music playing)

♪ Take me inside ♪